Rule 63
by Mademise
Summary: A month's worth of genderbending. T for Language, Insinuation, heteroerotism, homoerotism and erotism in general.
1. Chapter 1

China is organizing books.

He is quite pleased with this lot. There's much to be said of the value of acquiring things peacefully, especially considering that bloodshed has the potential to exponentially decrease the legibility of a work, but there is just something wonderful about gaining things by force, especially things so precious as these. China is, after all, rather possessive, and has never claimed to be otherwise.

"How is the most beautiful man in the world faring, then?" The skeleton with the firetruck red wig and the twenties-style dress that hangs slightly pathetically off her bones has walked up to China. China sighs and finishes up with his stack of books before looking up to smile.

"However do you think?" he asks, arch and lovely as he can be. There is a small, rather inky blotch of shadowlike shape near Skulduggery's back. It would appear to be a human with exceptionally fierce eyes that soften as they meet China's. "Who is your follower?"

"Gordon's nephew," Skulduggery says after a moment. "Desdemona's son."

"Does he have a name?" China asks, delighted at this distraction from his books.

"No," says the child, and China suppresses a grin. What a sweet voice.

* * *

**A/N: Obviously not the most unique of ideas, but I enjoyed the details.**

**These won't necessarily be in order, always have the correct name-translations or make sense. They might also be posted at the wrong times or be unintentionally profane. All the same, I hope you will enjoy them.**

**(Also, if I should get my hands on Kingdom of the Wicked before the month is up, there may be spoilers. It's not impossible.)  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 1, 2012.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Ghastly is listening to the sewing machine whir.

It's a sound that reminds her a lot of her childhood, of listening to her father work on clothes while her mother's jazz music played in the background, quick and angry and the perfect accompaniment to her endless drills because she could never bear to spend a moment still, and Ghastly remembers her father's smile as he went through clothes, free foot tapping rhythmically.

Ghastly remembers joining in the drills sometimes, careless and clumsy and on the other side of the room from her mother because her mother, while a wonderful woman, wasn't always the most careful person in the world, and she remembers sometimes folding her father's finished works, and she remembers just sitting by the record player and listening to the sound of domestic tranquility.

There's no jazz music now, no creaky record player in the corner, but there is the sound of the sewing machine, and there is Tanit going through his drills, swordblade flashing, and just to prove a kind of a point, Ghastly starts humming.

Tanit casts her a look of vague alarm at first, seemingly worried that Ghastly has strangled on something, but then he smiles.

* * *

**A/N: I decided not to genderflip Ghastly's parents. They were challenging traditional gender roles just fine as they were.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 2, 2012.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

The world of magic has never been easy, but oh, how she wishes it were.

Fletcher is fixing up her hair with a pair of scissors stolen from a warehouse in China, staring into the mirror of the public bathroom. She's in the stall for the disabled and the door is firmly locked.

This is the first time she's had to cut her hair since she left home, and somehow it feels almost painful.

Sure, there's something great about teleporting. Things in her shoulders that have hurt her whole life feel freed, and her ankles have never been in better shape. Seeing the world makes her eyes ache a little, but it's a good kind of discomfort.

Not having a home, though? Having left behind all the family she has? That was an injury.

She thinks about where she's going to go tonight. She started out with only the best, the grandest, the _shiniest_. She's tired now, though, and she doesn't think she's going to get very far.

She doesn't. Once she's abandoned the scissors, washed her hair down the sink and unlocked the door, she pulls herself into the park and promptly climbs a tree.

She is soon asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Writing this one actually made me feel a little sad. Poor Fletcher.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 3, 2012. **


	4. Chapter 4

Clarus is washing up the knives.

He's thinking about everything he can dredge up. He has just gone through his remaining knowledge of the alphabets of every language he ever tried to learn and gave up on after a few years. Japanese. Arabic. Greek. He's starting on multiplication tables and stuck because he doesn't know what two twos are.

He moves on. Mutters the Mass under his breath because he went to enough of them as a child to know the words. There are no readings, no homily, no seasonal specification, but none of those really ever mattered. It was always the skeleton.

Yes, good. That works. He goes through the names of every bone found in the human body. He knows them well, better than his own flesh. Then he thinks about nail polish and the knives he's working with and the way lightbulbs work.

From there, the Periodic Table of Elements. Proton numbers and valence electrons and relative atomic mass. Acids. Hydrochloric is HCl. Sulfuric is H2S04. Citric is H3C6H5O7.

Hippopotami were the leading cause of death in Ancient Egypt. Plato was basically gay.

He has almost completely distracted himself when he turns around and observes Kenspeckle's corpse.

* * *

**A/N: Clarus is like the most awesome name ever.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 4, 2012.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a weird name?"

"What's weird about Einherji Cain?"

"For one thing, it's pretty much impossible to spell." Clarus shrugs. "Pronouncing it's quite difficult too. And why would you want to be named after the dead?"

"I like mythology," Einherji says. "And it means 'lone fighter'."

"Ah," Clarus says, smiling. "It's a _cool_ name."

"What's wrong with that?" Einherji asks, on the defensive.

"Nothing, nothing," Clarus says lightly. "Thing is, though, people's minds don't immediately spring to _lone fighter_, or even to _pathetic sod who was killed in battle and brought to heaven by singing women on horseback_. They tend, in fact, to think of _bastard with a ridiculously difficult name_."

"Like yours is so simple."

"It is, though. Clarus. Latin for radiant. It's also the name of a saint who was the patron of tailors."

"That's kind of a gay name."

"I'm kind of a gay person." Clarus grins.

"… Ah."

"Yes, I know. In any case, I think your arm should be finished setting, so you are free to stop attempting to make conversation."

"You're the one who started it."

"I was?"

"You were."

"Well then, feel free to ignore me."

* * *

**A/N: For some reason, genderflipping seems to exacerbate my dislike for Valkyrie. Hm.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 5, 2012.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

"Seems like I've been seeing you around a lot recently." Clarus's voice is light, cheery, but he is frowning and his hands are tight on the tray of needles.

"I would say the same," Einherji says weakly, "but it's not like I'm ever conscious for any of it."

"Oh, the things that could mean," Clarus says, rolling his eyes and smiling a little despite himself, another layer of wrinkles settling over his skin.

"I'm sorry if I've caused you any inconvenience," Einherji says softly.

"A less patient man would tell you that you talk too much," Clarus says wryly, leaving the room to put away his tray and then returning to sort out the counter. "Would tell you that you snore and that your blood is damn impossible to get out of stuff. But I am patient, so no, it's really no issue at all. I do wish you'd take a little more care of yourself, though. This is far more often than I want to be finding you here."

"You don't like seeing me?"

"Not when you're broken, Einherji. Never when you're broken. Who likes seeing the one they love hurting?" Smiling serenely, Clarus glides out of the room.

* * *

**A/N: I'm having a surprising amount of fun with the changed dynamic.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 6, 2012. **


	7. Chapter 7

"What's it like working for the Nye, then?" Einherji's legs are too short, and they dangle over the side of the bed. Einherji is trying not feel pathetic and tiny and alone, and also trying not to think about how whimsical the gesture is, and how much it makes him think of Clarus.

"It's not bad," Clarus says. "I don't have days off anymore, but I don't really want them that much. There's so much to be done. Especially with you wandering around getting yourself into trouble." Clarus glares a little. "But it's okay, really. It helps me to forget about Kenspeckle."

Einherji doesn't say anything.

"You look sorry," Clarus notes. "Please don't. It's… It's rather sad. I need to get my work done, not get my heart wrenched into pieces over a pretty little boy."

Einherji laughs at that. "Am I wrenching your heart into pieces, then?"

"Pretty much," Clarus says lightly. "So stop looking so sorry. Be happy. The world's a pretty great place, if you think about it in the right kind of way."

Clarus grins and after a moment, so does Einherji. "I'll cheer up," Einherji says. "Promise."

"So glad to hear it," Clarus says brightly.

* * *

**A/N: Having finished with the initial state that is deeply disliking Valkyrie in all her incarnations, I have grown to be fond of Einherji and now thoroughly am enjoying Einherji/Clarus.  
**

**As with Ghastly's parents, absolutely nothing has changed with regards to the Nye.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 7, 2012.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

"I fixed your hat," Ghastly says as Skulduggery walks into the shop. "I feel like I should note that millinery really isn't my thing. Nevertheless, I fixed your hat."

"Fabulous," Skulduggery says, tilting her head forwards in a show of appreciation.

"It's even further out of my job description, but I would dearly love to be able to do something about that wig of yours. Gods. They just get worse and worse, don't they?"

"I quite enjoy them," Skulduggery says, trying the hat on and inspecting herself in a mirror. Today's wig is turquoise and rather blatantly not made out of any kind of naturally occurring substance.

"And the thing is, you actually have some semblance of taste in terms of everything but your hair." Ghastly is inspecting the skeleton with a speculative kind of look in her eyes.

"Well," Skulduggery says in a fairly good attempt at sounding even, "I don't actually have hair now, and there's no point in pretending otherwise. If I can't have any, why try? These are things that you'd never see normally, and that's nice. It's like me. You don't see skeletons walking around every day."

"… You miss it, don't you?"

"I do."

* * *

**A/N: The weird thing is that my genderflipping fic seems to be more canon-consistent than anything else I write. Huh.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 8, 2012.  
**


	9. Chapter 9

"You have such wonderful hair," the slight girl with the intense eyes whispers as she runs her fingers through aforementioned hair, and Fletcher is trying her level best not to just collapse on the spot.

"Uh," Fletcher says rather awkwardly after a moment. "Thanks."

"You're rather wonderful in general, of course," the smaller, considerably older girl assures Fletcher. "Your hair is rather exceptionally fantastic, though."

Fletcher would laugh, probably, if the situation were any different, but right now, she's rather more focused on staying a sort of modicum of composed. "You're pretty awesome too, Caelie," she says softly and her hands shake as she reaches out to the other female and at the back of her mind there's the nagging reminder that she's about to have sex not only with a girl but with a dead one and that that should be so much more disturbing than it is.

Caelie is mostly thinking about how much lovelier Fletcher is when she's not talking in her quick, nervous, stuttering way, so instead of gracing the muttered remark with a proper answer, she makes sure that Fletcher will stop speaking presently.

Fletcher, to her credit, cooperates with a remarkable amount of enthusiasm.

* * *

**A/N: Regardless of gender, Fletcher/Caelan will forever and always be my OTP.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 9, 2012.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

"Your toes are cold."

"Hm."

"You should seriously think about wearing socks in bed."

"…"

"Oh, stop raising your eyebrows at me."

"…?"

"You're unfairly cute, that's why."

"…"

"Stop grinning. That's unfairly cute as well."

"… Hm."

"You know what I mean. Seriously, stop being so perfect! It's scary."

Caelie giggles. "You're funny," she says softly, her voice high and clear and rather lovely.

"Oh, hush," Fletcher says, turning slightly red. You wouldn't be able to tell in the dark, but Caelie can see very well as it is, despite the obvious distractions of their proximity and the mess that is the bedclothes.

"You are, though," Caelie says warmly and her fingers tangle their way out and Fletcher swears violently.

"I take that back," she murmurs, breathy and reluctant. "You're not perfect after all. Jesus, your fingers are cold."

"You can warm me up, can't you?" Caelie asks, the picture of innocence with her eyes gleaming as warmly as could be possible in the half-light, and Fletcher is still blushing.

"Perhaps," she says, shrugs a little, and Caelie laughs.

"You really are adorable, you know that?" she says brightly.

"Oh," Fletcher says, and at that point she stops talking.

* * *

**A/N: Seriously. OTP.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 10, 2012.  
**


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh, thank the Gods," Clarus says abruptly, putting his hands on his hips and smiling. "Finally, I see you uninjured."

"Hello, Clarus," Einherji says, rather demurely in his mind. "It's nice to see you too. You have a day off this time?"

"Nye's incapacitated," Clarus says. "The Sanctuary's upset. Thinks it's done something terribly wrong. I'd be filling in for it, of course, but there's the issue of them not trusting me at all." There's something a little sulky in his eyes. "I'd have been fine," he says. "It was the Remnant that killed Kenspeckle. Not me. They should know that by now."

"It's not just that," Einherji says without thinking. "It's that they think that you're loyal to the Nye."

"No, Einherji, it's that they think that I'm crazy." There's something shining in Clarus's eyes, and Einherji doesn't even want to begin to understand what that is.

"They're silly, then," Einherji says after a moment, has thought about it this time, steps a little closer to Clarus and after little more than an instant of hesitation, rather awkwardly embraces the rather smaller, thinner man.

"You're terrible at hugging," Clarus says conversationally. "Thank you for the sentiment, though."

"You're welcome."

* * *

**A/N: I rather enjoy their relationship now that I've gotten used to it. It's still a little messed up, but it would be silly to expect that a genderswap would fix that.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 11, 2012.  
**


	12. Chapter 12

"My hair's getting long again," Fletcher says darkly, staring into the mirror.

"You'd look great with long hair," Caelie comments as she touches up the edges of her nail polish. She'd never really been able to keep a manicure before, but then the serum happened and now nail art is an obsession to her on a level similar to Fletcher with her coiffure.

"I _have_ long hair, Caelie, that's really kind of the issue here," Fletcher says, lips curving into a smile. Between them, they have amassed enough grooming products to fill a room, and yet they don't particularly wear maquillage.

"No, I mean, like, _seriously _long. Braids or whatever." Caelie caps the bottle of nail lacquer and starts blowing gently at her nails. "Not _it would be long if I were a boy._"

"Nah, no way."

"You can't say it's too high-maintenance. It's already damned high-maintenance as it is."

"I don't like how it looks," Fletcher says, shrugs. "It's too, I don't know. Ugh. _No._"

"Terribly articulate, aren't you?" Caelie's rolling her eyes.

"I think we're past pointing out my faults, aren't we? Haven't we established that listing them all would take forever?"

"I guess so," Caelie says, grinning.

* * *

**A/N: In case you were wondering, yes, it is totally possible to have incredibly short nails and still paint them pretty. I can tell you this as a string-instrument-player, nail-art-junkie and, yes, dyke.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 12, 2012.  
**


	13. Chapter 13

Christian and Carollan are trying to pack their lives into tiny little cardboard boxes and they'll be damned if it isn't the most fun they've had in years.

The _do you remember?_s ring through the air with their laughter and their hands, though decorated now with papercuts, are steady.

"Can you believe it?" Carollan asks after a moment. It's the third time he's voiced this thought, but it is no less delicious on his tongue than the first.

"God, no," Christian is saying, shaking his head slowly. He's painfully skinny still, and his hair is an entirely unnatural shade of crimson, but the happiness mapped out on his face makes him seem just a little healthier. "I thought this would never happen."

"We're leaving Haggard," Carollan says, tossing one of his books into the air and watching it spin before catching it rather deftly. "At last."

_At last_. They don't have to meet each other's eyes to know the thoughts gleaming from them, don't have to taste the quality of the quiet to know the things racing through it, but their eyes meet and the quiet resounds and their shared jubilation fills the room they have spent their childhood despising.

* * *

**A/N: I had a great deal of fun with this one.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 13, 2012.  
**


	14. Chapter 14

"How could I ever have lived without you?" Fletcher is asking of Caelie and Caelie has absolutely no idea what the answer is.

Their hands are linked almost casually, or so a passerby might assume. Their fingers are twined into each other loosely, the beginnings of a tangle but still far off from a knot. Their wrists aren't relaxed, which is admittedly somewhat anomalous, but they definitely do not look like they are holding on to each other for a dear life.

They are looking at the manifold stars in the sky and Caelie's mind is curling in a hundred directions.

"I could ask the same of you," she says lightly, the comment as innocent as she can make it. "But you were never in my lifetime. Perhaps, had you been, I would have been alive now."

Fletcher has wished many things over the course of her existence, but right now, more than anything, she wants to be able to travel freely through time as well as space.

Caelie's head turns slightly and she is looking at the reflections of the stars in her lovers eyes now. "This is okay, though," she says softly. "This is good." _This is enough._

* * *

**A/N: Fletcher/Caelan fluffiness is fun.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 14, 2012.  
**


	15. Chapter 15

"This is assuredly the most free time I have had in years," Clarus says darkly, his knees pressed against his chest and his arms cradling his legs. "I must say, I am finding the experience disconcerting in the extreme."

Einherji regards Clarus evenly and then slithers his way softly off the sofa and onto the floor. He thinks about asking about hobbies, about pastimes, about childhood memories. He stops himself, secures himself into the silence.

"Whatever is it that you do with your life to make it seem less empty?" Clarus asks after a moment, head tilting upwards to watch Einherji answer.

"I run around stopping people who would cause harm to others," Einherji says after a moment, carefully skirting around mention of employment. "And then I sleep, because I'm so, so tired."

"I can't run," Clarus notes. "My ankles just aren't made for it. And I really, really can't sleep."

"Why's that?" Einherji asks.

"I dream," Clarus says. "Not really a good thing to do, when you're me."

"You could sleep now," Einherji says after a moment's thought. "I could keep the dreams away."

"What would you know of dreams?" Clarus asks.

"Plenty," Einherji says.

Clarus considers it. "Okay."

* * *

**A/N: The amount of skeeviness in this is entirely up to you and your interpretation.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 15, 2012.  
**


	16. Chapter 16

Clarus wakes up shaky, awkward. His shoulders tense as they register the presence of Einherji's arms, and they don't relax.

He starts to pull the pieces of himself together, and it hurts.

He's left parts of himself behind before, of course, where they were needed. His minded has been fragmented time and time over, in the effort to maybe, just maybe, be some kind of helpful, and his problem has always been remembering to pick up the shards when they're done. It gets harder every time, and more painful.

It's all about a balance, though. Sacrifice given for gain, and there was usually a lot of gain. There were lost causes, of course, there always are, but Clarus wouldn't be who he is if he weren't a sucker for a lost cause.

None of this really matters right now, because he has pulled every piece together that he can find and still there is Einherji and the tiny space between sofa and coffee table and crampedness and the feeling of warmth around his back and the fact that he wasn't alone as he slept, regardless of his dreams.

Clarus stares, his brow furrowing. He doesn't know what he should think.

* * *

**A/N: I don't know why I choose Clarabelle to heap all this misfortune onto, I really don't.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 16, 2012.  
**


	17. Chapter 17

The phone rings and for all he's worth, Clarus glares at it and tries not to pick it up, because all _that_ is is opening the door to another slippery slope that can only lead to heartbreak of the highest degree, and Clarus just isn't ready for that now. He doesn't think he ever has been, though that's never stopped it from happening.

He picks up the phone, and he directs his gaze to the wall and he tries to convince himself that all is at least some semblance of _well._ It isn't, of course, and he knows that, but he tries.

"Clarus?" Einherji's voice is nervous, on the waterfall's edge of cracking and breaking and becoming a vivid, seething mess of confusion. "Are you okay?"

"Einherji." Clarus keeps his own voice even as he can. "I am."

"You… You weren't here when I woke up. I got worried."

"There's no call for that," Clarus answers calmly. "I won't do anything stupid, I promise you. Don't worry for me."

"I think we need to talk. Maybe."

"We are, in fact, talking." Clarus is smiling at nothing now.

"I mean, face to face. In person."

"Of course we do." Clarus sighs.

* * *

**A/N: I am also sighing. I don't know why I write about Valkyrie so much when all her character does is cause such frustration.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 17, 2012.  
**


	18. Chapter 18

"I take it that you'll want to come over?" Clarus's free hand is drumming rhythms onto his kneecap. "Since you've already had me in your house. You are welcome to, you know."

"Okay." Einherji's voice is shaking, like it knows the heartbreak that's in store for it even if its owner doesn't. "What's the address?"

Clarus rattles it off, looks around his house and holds in laughter. It's in good order. There will be no need for the stumbling, last-minute cleaning that Einherji's had been subjected to. He doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but he'd rather laugh than cry.

When the phoneline has been disconnected, he does laugh, in great deep shuddering breaths, like he can stave off the inevitable with nothing but sheer twisted mirth. He can't, of course, but it's a nice thought.

It's not long at all before there's a knock at the door and Clarus checks through the peephole before tugging it open, though he knows it can only be Einherji in any case and his shoulders are still stiff as he welcomes Einherji into his home and they exchange pleasantries and feel further apart than they have ever been.

* * *

**A/N: Angsty-angsty-angst.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 18, 2012.  
**


	19. Chapter 19

"What was your life like when you didn't know you had magic?" Caelie's voice is light, distant and dry. Her chin is resting on the palm of her hand, and she's looking at Fletcher more for something to look at than to gauge the other girl's reaction. It's just as well, because the reaction is nothing spectacular.

Fletcher's left eyebrow arches, rather elegantly, Caelie thinks, and the corners of her lips lift up a bit. "It was a little bit like Hell," Fletcher answers honestly, and then she swallows because it really was and the memory isn't a fun one. "I couldn't wait to get away."

And now Caelie says nothing because silence can be explained but words that just don't fit can't, or at least cannot be to Fletcher, because Fletcher's mind works in a certain way and Caelie has privately made understanding that her life's purpose and she's gotten pretty good at it so far.

"It wasn't such a long time, though," Fletcher adds. "The first time I teleported was the first time she tried to hit me. Serendipitous, I guess you'd say."

Caelie wouldn't say, but she reaches out her hand to clasp Fletcher's, holding her gaze.

* * *

**A/N: I actually think I might have forgotten how to write happy things.  
**

**~Mademise Morte, September 19, 2012.  
**


	20. Chapter 20

Clarus has been trying his level best not to expect too much of Einherji, but he still expected a Hell of a lot more than this.

He's been waiting for hours. His cup of tea grew cold, and when he noticed it, he downed the lot and made another cup. That grew cold, but he finished it too, and another, and the caffeine is buzzing in his veins and _Gods_ does he love tea. It smells like home, maybe, and peace and safety and Einherji always asked for tea when Grouse had left him to his healing and that's just the wrong train of thought to be following right now.

He's curled up on the sofa now, empty mug next to him on the table. He's staring at the ceiling, thinking about sleep. About being alone with his own thoughts. He's terrified and oddly calmed.

He falls asleep like this, desperately hungry and exhausted and scared and at peace. Doesn't wake up for hours.

When he does, though, it's to the sound of a knock at the door that must have been going on for minutes and he gets up and the first thing Einherji says is the word 'sorry'.

* * *

**A/N: I finally got around to installing Google Chrome and now everything is so _quick_ and _shiny._**

**~Mademise Morte, September 20, 2012.**


	21. Chapter 21

Skulduggery's house doesn't happen to contain any beds, so Dexter is having to improvise.

"Explain," she is murmuring to the bone-thin woman as they stumble their way about, "why it is that you have a kitchen, bathrooms, living room after living room," and here they pause to rest from the exhaustion that is stepping on each other's toes, "and no bedroom?"

"I don't sleep," is Skulduggery's answer, pragmatically spoken. Her fingers are twining their way through Dexter's spikes of hair, cropped close to her scalp. "But the house came installed with the kitchen and the bathroom and so on. No point repurposing them – would be such a waste. Nothing to do about changing a bedroom-space to a living room, though."

"You talk far too much," Dexter observes. "Still."

"I know," Skulduggery says, casual. She has no breath to run out of.

"It's adorable," Dexter says.

"I know," Skulduggery repeats peaceably. "I remember."

"Remember?" Dexter asks, raises an expressive eyebrow.

"It's not the first time you've said that," Skulduggery explains.

"Did I tell you that it stops being adorable after a few minutes, then?" Dexter asks, decidedly out of breath.

"Yes."

"Good," Dexter says, smiling a brilliant smile. "That still stands."

* * *

**A/N: Here's a pairing I never really considered before, probably because it's het: Dexter/Tanith. Because one adventurous, well-muscled blonde with a great smile just isn't enough.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 21, 2012.**


	22. Chapter 22

Her own skin as canvas, her own tears as paint. Huddled up alone, Fletcher is weeping and her life story is being sketched out onto her surface. Caelie is gone, and without the dead girl, life doesn't seem worth living.

She'd teleported out of the hotel, never mind the years worth of accumulated hair products and nail lacquers left there, gone straight to where the people were telling the stories. The sun wasn't up yet, but it was going to be soon.

She found Caelie a monster where should be a human, and it was the most painful thing she'd seen in her life because the beast was a wounded one, hurt beyond repairing. The being that answered to the name Caelie for about half of time was curled up and bleeding profusely.

Fletcher walked up to her, ready to teleport away at a moment's notice, or at least so she told herself though she wouldn't have really, and she sat with her lover and they watched the sun rise together and Caelie's skin never grew back.

Fletcher eventually left, taking Caelie with her. She dug out the bullets, burnt the corpse, and climbed up into a tree to mourn.

* * *

**A/N: I seriously have no idea why this happened but it did and why the Hell can I not just leave my OTPs gorramn _happy_?**

**~Mademise Morte, September 22, 2012.**


	23. Chapter 23

Clarus wants to give the benefit of the doubt, he really does, or at least he would have, but the fact is that the hour is indecent, especially so since it is so, so belated, and he can't think of what Einherji is saying as much more than excuses.

Until, that is, he understands what is actually going on, at which point he ushers Einherji into the house, away from where they've been standing combative at the doorway, and he forces Einherji to take a seat and explain again, _slowly_.

He listens, and he is amazed.

"Am I to believe," he says slowly, at the end of it, though of course he believes it, every last word, "that you spent the night being kidnapped, exacting revenge on your abductors, and getting my job back from the Sanctuary."

"Yes," Einherji answers, grins and the joy is infectious and they embrace and there is an endless moment of perfection and

Clarus wakes up to the sound of the phone ringing. Gets up, answers. Leaves for the morgue with only one sock and mismatched shoes.

Einherji has been injured, and with the Nye unavailable, of course they need Clarus to patch him up.

* * *

**A/N: I'm a very nonviolent person but sometimes I just really want to slap Valkyrie. Obviously, this transfers to Einherji.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 23, 2012.**


	24. Chapter 24

"Hey," Clarus says, his voice muted and his tone gentle. "You're a Godsdamned bastard sometimes, you know that?"

"Not all the time?" Einherji asks weakly, a smile spreading across his mouth.

"I guess," Clarus says. "You have your good moments, though. Like now."

"Now?" Einherji asks. "I've been troubling you for the last few hours."

"Sewing you back together's never the problem," Clarus says. "I've told you that. It's the worrying about what the next time's going to be that makes you the bastard."

"Last night," Einherji says. "I'm sorry about that."

"I'd have said you should be, but there is obviously the fact that being abducted was completely out of your control."

"It was, at that," Einherji says after a moment. "Still, I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Clarus says. "Now, let's talk about how you've gotten me back my job."

"How'd I do that?" Einherji asks, frowning in confusion.

"Apparently I've handled you very well," Clarus says, trying not to be smug. "They've reinstated me while they sort out the Nye."

"Oh," Einherji says distantly. "Awesome."

"I know," Clarus says. "I haven't forgotten about our chat, by the way."

"Excellent."

"Maybe we should let you heal a bit first, though."

* * *

**A/N: Einherji acts weird when drugged. Einherji acts weird around Clarus. Thus, Einherji is acting weird in this snippet.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 24, 2012.**


	25. Chapter 25

"Proselytize all you like, Dexter, but I'm not converting one of the living rooms into a bedroom."

"Why? You said it yourself. It's not trouble at all."

"It's no trouble _as compared to converting a bathroom or a kitchen._It's plenty of trouble all on its own, trust me. Besides, it's time we could be spending busy on something else."

"It's time we could be spending in a bedroom _somewhere else_ where I continue to solidify your conviction that we will be making an excellent choice in refurbishing a room of this extremely large house."

"But Dexter, why is a bedroom _necessary_?"

"Why do you need so many living rooms? Variety is the spice of life, Skul."

"Spices are," is Skulduggery's answer, delivered with a straight face. "I think I could do with a bit more convincing, really."

"Okay. If you had a bedroom, I could sleep over."

"You can already do that, dear."

"I wake up with terrible back aches, you know that."

"Getting old, are we?" Skulduggery asks serenely.

"Oh, shut up."

"I can distract you plenty from your back."

"I know you can, but it's the principle of the thing."

"And you say _I_ talk a lot."

* * *

**A/N: Skulduggery is sassy, assuming sassy is a unisex adjective. Even if it isn't, sassiness is an integral part of Skulduggery.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 25, 2012.**


	26. Chapter 26

"China, I need your help."

"Not exactly the most promising way to begin a conversation, but do go on." China is on a short stepladder, rearranging the books on one of the higher shelves. It's not that he's not a tall man, except that he really isn't. Not that it in any way detracts from his charms, but it is kind of the thing that you tend to notice.

"I think I'm in love but all I do is continually make a terrible fool of myself and be an absolute arsehole and I don't know what to do about it."

"Isn't that how you spend your life, Einherji?" China asks and then he shakes his head. "No, that was cruel. Disregard it."

"If that's how you think about me, I can't imagine how he must."

"Far be it from me to say that gender means anything in matters of romance, but it is a boy, then?"

"He's definitely male, yes." A faraway look enters Einherji's eyes as he contemplates the object of his affections.

"You look absolutely smitten. Congratulations. I'm sure it will all work out very well for you."

"You're meant to be giving advice."

"Oh, so I am."

* * *

**A/N: China is also sassy. I think that's why I don't like chinduggery. All the sass might cause spontaneous implosion.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 26, 2012.**


	27. Chapter 27

Words are exchanged and Einherji feels oddly out of place, as if this conversation is happening to someone whose body he is only happening to inhabit and has absolutely no control over, as somehow he and Clarus seem to be talking peaceably and maturely about feelings and he isn't absolutely falling apart, which is how the last conversation of this kind Einherji was in ended up. Of course, that was years ago, and Einherji was silly then, but Einherji would be the first to admit that he's really rather silly as it is now and hasn't grown up.

Except that it seems he has, in some ways at least, because the conversation has concluded and he can feel Clarus's hand on his own and he is wildly distracted by the feeling of skin against skin, calluses rubbing against each other and fingers becoming entwined and then he isn't thinking about hands at all because there are lips to be dealt with and as much as Einherji has hated dealing with his emotions all his life he is starting to think that it's not too much of an ordeal after all.

Not, at least, if it ends up in this way.

* * *

**A/N: I really really like run-on sentences. Evidently.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 27, 2012.**


	28. Chapter 28

Fletcher doesn't hold a funeral. She knows almost nothing about Caelie's family and absolutely, definitely nothing about any family that Caelie might have that's still alive. As far as friendships go, there weren't many that Caelie kept up on an active basis. Vampires are not much known for their social networking.

She still wanted to do something, though, in remembrance. Having scattered the ashes into the sea, she sat down near a convenient tree and closed her eyes and she tried to remember everything about their lives together, what time they did had.

She doesn't believe in a God, so she doesn't pray, but there is something decidedly reverent about her expression as she recalls the way life seemed to be. The colors. There was always so much color, so much depth.

The feeling of safety Caelie brought was a strong one, and that soothes Fletcher. She doesn't believe in a God, but all of a sudden she's not sure about everything else because she knows. She saw the corpse, held the corpse, watched it burn. Knows Caelie's gone.

But she still feels that sensation of calmness, of color, of not being alone. Of being part of a love eternal.

* * *

**A/N: I can't decide if this is fluff or angst.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 28, 2012.**


	29. Chapter 29

Clarus is making a cup of tea and Einherji picks up the phone on the second ring. It is Fletcher.

"What is it?" Einherji asks immediately. "Why aren't you teleporting here to talk?"

"You told me it was an invasion of your privacy," Fletcher says gravely. "I thought I'd respect that."

"Oh," Einherji says. "That's… That's nice." He covers the receiver and asks Clarus if Fletcher can come over to visit. Clarus nods and so Einherji returns to the phone call.

"You're welcome to come over now," Einherji says. "I'm at home. Gordana's house."

"Awesome," Fletcher says, and then she ends the call. A moment later, she appears in the kitchen. Blinks in surprise. "Hello, Clarus," she says after a moment. "Was definitely not expecting to see you here."

"It's nice to see you too, Fletcher," Clarus says. "Your hair looks well."

"Oh," Fletcher says blithely. "Thank you, I guess."

"Why're you here, Fletcher?" Einherji asks. "Would you like some tea?"

"I guess," Fletcher says. "I came to tell you. Uh. Caelie's dead."

"You must be glad about that," Einherji says. "You hate vampires, don't you?"

"We were lovers," Fletcher says stiltedly. "Towards the end."

"Oh," says Einherji rather awkwardly.

* * *

**A/N: There's no more Fletcher/Caelie or Einherji/Clarus for the month, so I'll just say that this all ends with them sitting around drinking tea reflectively.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 29, 2012.**


	30. Chapter 30

"So, Skulduggery, are you pleased with the bedroom?"

"Honestly, I'm having rather distressing thoughts about how terrible things will be now that I have to do laundry on a regular basis."

"You wash your clothes, don't you?"

"Well, obviously, but that's just manipulating water. For this, I actually have to, you know, strip the mattress and change the sheets and so on and so forth."

"Good point," Dexter says. "You would get bored with the same bedclothes all the time."

"As long as it's the same person lying in them, I don't think I'd care, to be honest."

"Did you never get tired of the upholstery on your chairs or the pattern of your wallpaper or something?" Dexter asks.

"On occasion," Skulduggery says, shrugs.

"What did you do then?"

"I changed the living room where I spent most of my time. Obviously."

"Obviously," Dexter echoes, rolling her eyes.

"In addition to minor concerns over laundry, I am predicting a future in which we spend most of our time talking. I find this worrying."

"We can stop talking now, if you want," Dexter says, smiling.

"It really isn't now I'm worried about. Though that would be fine too."

"Skulduggery?"

"Yes?"

"Hush."

* * *

**A/N: It occurs to me that instead of bringing a moving van to the second date, Dexter brought arguments for the construction of a bedroom to the first one.**

**This amuses me to no end.**

**~Mademise Morte, September 30, 2012.**


End file.
